


Character Witness

by jellymankelly



Series: Innocent Series [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellymankelly/pseuds/jellymankelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You let a tiny feeling of self-satisfaction color your love for her. Sure she's grumpy and stubborn and steals the covers at night, but she's yours. It's pretty freakin' awesome." Companion piece to Innocent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"There's a thing? I thought you said this  _wasn't_ going to be a thing."

"I know, I just meant-"

"You said 'just Christmas dinner with a couple people who happen to look like me - no big thing.' Those were your exact words."

"I know- it's not. I mean, the dinner isn't a thing. There's just  _a_  thing about the dinner. And really, it's not even a thing. It's more of a sub-thing."

"The dinner."

"No, I just told you, dinner is  _not_  going to be a thing. Like, at all."

"Right, it's a sub-thing."

"No, Santana, you're not listening.  _Dinner_  is not a thing. In fact, it's a not-thing-oh my God I think I just figured out where the word 'nothing' came from. That is so cool, I- hey!"

You turn to shoot a totally withering glare at Santana, only to find her smirking at you over the tops of her aviators, her arm draped across the back of the bench seating in your truck's cab, fingers curling dangerously close to the collar of your windbreaker.

"You're doing that on purpose, aren't you? That whole miscorrecting thing-"

"Misdirecting."

"Right, that whole misdirecting thing where you try to make me lose my train of thought. Not cool, Santana."

Her smirk falls and turns into a soft smile as she tugs off her sunglasses and tucks them into her collar and pushes the bill of her baseball cap higher up over her forehead.

"Sorry babe, I can't help myself. I just love the way your brain works. You've gotta be some kind of genius, the way you can keep track of a conversation no matter what. It's ridiculously sexy."

You flush hotly and lean across the center console to push at her shoulder with yours, humming when her hand catches around the back of your neck to pull you in for a light kiss.

"I mean it, Britt. You've got the most fascinating mind. It's one of the things I love most about you."

"Santana…" You can hear how light your voice is, and you wonder if there will ever be a day when she won't be able to take your breath away without even trying. Probably not, if you're honest with yourself.

"Okay, okay, I'm being serious. Serious Santana." Her smile softens even further, but it hovers just at the corners of her mouth and eyes, playful and so full of affection you almost can't stand it. It takes actual effort for you to refocus on what she's saying, you're so distracted by her. "There's a thing about this dinner, although the dinner in and of itself is decidedly  _not_  a thing."

"Right. Um. The thing is my dad...He's kind of overprotective of me? Like, ever since my mom died, he's been super um...intense…about anyone who dates me." Her smile drops completely, and your stomach goes along for the ride. You rush to reassure her and kick yourself for saying anything in the first place. "He's gonna love you, though! I'm one-hundred percent sure that he will totally love you, because you're perfect and beautiful and smart and funny and you make me  _so_  happy and that's what's really important to him I think so-"

She stops you with a gentle kiss, not nearly long enough, and light as air. "I'll be on my best behavior," she murmurs solemnly. Her eyes are completely serious now, and you can tell from the way the muscles along her jawline bunch that she's hiding a lot of nervousness too. You sigh regretfully and run your fingertips along the smooth line of muscle and bone, stroking tenderly. Maybe you can undo some of the stress you just caused unnecessarily.

Hoping for a laugh, you scowl ferociously and mutter, "You're  _always_  on your best behavior. It's no fun at  _all_."

She offers you a tight smile and pats your hand lightly before dislodging it from her face. "Let's get this tree in the house, huh? You said your cousin is coming over to help decorate?"

Sighing, you haul yourself out from behind the wheel and mirror Santana as she heads toward the back of your pickup to let down the back gate.

"Yeah, Holly. She's actually my dad's cousin, but it's easier if I call her my cousin too." You pause in the middle of reaching for the tree - you don't really want to, given the results of your last warning, but you feel like maybe you should brief your girlfriend on your cousin too. "Um, Santana?"

She grunts as she starts pulling the tree towards her. "Yeah, babe."

"About Holly…"

She shoots you a concerned glance, but continues yanking on the tree, wrestling it upright while you stand by, wrestling with your thoughts.

"Holly- she's not like my dad. I mean, she'll totally love you on sight."

A muffled grunt sounds from somewhere behind the tree. "Alright…"

"That's kind of the problem though."

Santana's head pokes out from behind the swaying mass of pine needles, and her brow is doing that crease-thing that makes her look like a confused puppy and now you can't remember what you wanted to say because you just want to kiss her and boop her nose and maybe even-

"HONEYBEE!"

"Oh God."

You spin in place and grin hugely when you see your cousin trudging through the heavy layer of snow blanketing the parking lot. Her hair, almost an exact match for your own, is flying wildly across her face as she makes her way over to you, and you tuck your lips together to avoid getting a mouthful of it when she pulls you into a tight hug.

"It's been an inexcusably long time, Britt. Just what do you have to say for yourself?" She steps back and plants her hands on her hips as she mock glares at you.

You shuffle guiltily and grin at her. "I've been…busy, Holls."

"Busy," she scoffs. "Busy with what, exactly?" She grins at you slyly, and you swallow nervously in anticipation of what she might say next. "Or should I say, who?"

"Um, Britt?"

"Oh God, Santana! You spin quickly, almost slipping on the icy ground beneath your feet, and grab the top of the tree so you can take some of its weight from the smaller woman's grasp. "I'm so sorry honey! Here, let's get this inside. Holls, can you go get the door?"

"'Course, Honeybee. Let's go get our Christmas on!" You can't see her because you're facing Santana, but you'd bet your favorite Ducktales t-shirt that she's charging across the lot like she's going to war. You and Holly have almost identical personalities, which means she's just as prone to silliness as you are. It's one of the things you love best about her.

You and Santana lift the tree and begin the long trek to her apartment. As you climb the stairs, huffing and puffing way more than any two reasonably in-shape women probably should, you find yourself ridiculously grateful that you agreed to have Christmas dinner at her place instead of yours. You've been spending more and more of your time over there as it is, so it made sense to you.

You haven't really revisited the conversation about the two of you living together since the last time, and you don't really want to bring it up yourself. Conversations in the middle of hot, hot lady sex probably don't count - at least not when you're talking about serious stuff.

"Britt, let's just put this in the corner for now. I'm gonna go take off this damn jacket and lay out my uniform before I start setting this thing up, that way I can change real quick before dinner."

"Oka-"

"You can take off whatever you want, sweet cheeks. That's just fine by me."

"Holly!"

You still can't see your cousin's face, but she must be making one of her awful 'sexy' expressions because Santana looks like she's about to burst into flames from pure embarrassment.

"Alright, alright, introductions first, seductions later. You're such an old fuddy-duddy when it comes to protocol, B, honestly."

"Just ignore her, honey," you mutter. Santana smiles sheepishly at you and shrugs as much as an armful of Christmas tree will allow her.

"I get the feeling that's easier said than done, Britt," she murmurs. She winks at you as she tugs the tree from your hands and braces it in the corner she must have cleared out for it before you picked her up this morning. "I'm gonna go take off my jacket and stuff, then I'll get started on this monster. You just...you keep your cousin busy, 'kay?"

You nod and smile sympathetically, giggling when she pats your ass as she heads into her room. It's kind of funny to you, how she treats her uniform - almost like it's some kind of superhero costume. Like she can handle anything the world throws at her when she's in it, but in regular clothes she's just plain Santana.

To be honest, you're kind of starting to really like the cop side of Santana. Normally - around you at least - she's kinda shy and bashful and impossibly tender like,  _all the time_  and it just makes you want to wrap her up in your arms and keep her forever.

But once she's got her uniform on, something inside her just...switches. All the sudden all of this confidence just comes up out of nowhere and and it's like she's almost a different person. She's harder and stronger and constantly on guard. But at the same time, if she's in a good mood, she gets this sort of sly look behind her eyes. She almost seems cocky, and  _God_  does cocky Santana do things to your insides.

You wish cocky Santana  _would_  do something inside you, but now's not really the time for that so you clench your thighs and grit your teeth and hope that your cheeks aren't as pink and hot as they feel.

You join Holly in the kitchen, rolling your eyes when you see she's already helped herself to a beer from the fridge. "Something to drink, Holls?"

She lifts the beer in salute and smirks at you. "All set, B."

Snorting, you rinse the sap and dust from your hands in the sink. You don't resist the urge to flick some water at the woman before drying your hands. The oven beeps and you glance at it nervously.

"Um, Santana?"

"Yeah, babe?" Her voice echoes sweetly down the hall, and you grin to yourself subconsciously. You can just imagine her, standing over her bed, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles as she lays her spotless uniform out for later. It's kind of adorable how precise and neat she is with it. She's so careful with everything, and it never fails to make you melt a little inside.

Holly giggles and you snap the towel at her. The oven beeps again, reminding you of your worry.

"The oven just beeped at me. Do you-"

"It's fine, Britt. That's just a reminder beep. I set a timer for it." She strolls into the kitchen in just her faded jeans and a plain white undershirt, tucked in tight around her hips, and pecks your cheek before cracking the oven door to check on the turkey inside. "It's still got another hour or so. I've got it under control."

"A woman in control - I like it."

You get the feeling your eyes are gonna be doing a lot of rolling today. You hope they don't get stuck that way, but at least you'll know who to blame if they do. "Holly…" you sigh.

"Um...Thanks? I-I'm gonna go handle the tree now." Uh oh, stuttering. A sure sign that Santana's already on edge. You don't miss the way her hand curls possessively around your shoulder as she passes by, or the way her body shifts as far from Holly's (and not-so-incidentally as close to yours) as possible on her way out. You're  _so_  going to work that possessive thing to your advantage later. In the meantime, though, most of you wants to glare at Holly for making her nervous, and apologize to Santana for not warning her better. The rest of you that wants to giggle at how cute she is. Because she is.  _So cute._

You pull out a plate of sliced cheeses you'd brought over earlier and offer it to Holly, who waves you off in favor of watching (staring, really) at your girlfriend.

"I told you, didn't I? I wasn't lying." You can't help the slightly smug tone in your voice as you survey your cousin's awed expression.

"I know, sugar, and I believed you - really I did. I just...I don't think I quite grasped the scope of the thing. She is  _actually perfect._  Seriously, Honeybee. Just... _wow._ "

Your grin spreads even further, until your cheeks ache so much you think they might just give up and fall off from overwork. "I know, right?" You're proud, of course you're proud. But for the first time in your life, you can't help but feel just a little bit full of yourself. As you and Holly watch Santana wrestle stubbornly with the huge tree - she insisted she could set it up herself when you bought it, and you know better than to try and interfere before she asks - you let a tiny feeling of self-satisfaction color your love for her. Sure she's grumpy and stubborn and steals the covers at night, but she's  _yours_. It's pretty freakin' awesome.

Tearing your eyes away from the tiny woman slowly being eaten alive by a Christmas tree in the living room, you turn back to your cousin. You have to shoulder her roughly to get her attention.

"Ass? I mean, huh?"

You roll your eyes and fight back an exasperated sigh. And people think  _you're_  the oblivious one.

"So, you'll help me, right?"

"Help you? With her? Jesus, yes, I'll start right now-" Holly jerks off the counter and starts marching towards your girlfriend with a decidedly hungry glint in her eyes, but pulls up short when your hand circles around her wrist. Tightly.

"Ha ha, Holls, funny. So funny."

"Brittany, there is nothing funny about that woman's backside. Like, seriously, it's  _perfectly_   _round!_  Perfectly! I mean, how does nature allow that woman to exist without just collapsing in on itself?"

You sigh and look over just in time to see Santana bend at the waist to shoulder the tree closer into position. Out of the corner of your eye a motion catches your attention and you glance over to see that Holly's head has tipped at nearly exactly the same degree yours has. Okay, now it's getting a little embarrassing.

"Holly," you hiss under your breath.

"What? You were staring too!"

"Yeah, because she's  _my_  girlfriend."

"Alright, alright, you don't have to rub it in. Unless of course you'll let me-"

"Don't even finish that sentence. Just don't."

"Party pooper."

"Perv."

"Whatever."

You both roll your eyes and burst into giggles at exactly the same time. Once you've both calmed down, you grab the older woman's hand to make sure she's giving you all of her attention.

"Holls, I'm really nervous. Santana hasn't met Daddy yet, and I...I'm really nervous about it."

She rubs your arm in sympathy - she knows you and your father better than anyone else in the family, having practically raised you after your mother died. She knows how protective he is of you. You're all he's got left.

"I know, Honeybee, but I honestly think it'll be okay. Santana really is just about as close to perfect for you as anyone can get, and it is just  _disgustingly_  obvious how head over heels for you she is. I mean, seriously B. It's a little gross."

You giggle and smack her hand lightly to cover the blush creeping over your cheeks, but you're sure it shows anyways. You're not exactly subtle either, you know.

"Okay,  _you_  can tell that, and  _I_  can tell that, but Daddy…" You sigh tiredly. He means well, he really does.

"Your dad is just a little bit obtuse when it comes to you, that's all. But yes, to answer your question, I'll help. I will happily be witness to your lovely girlfriend's fine…" her eyes drift over to Santana, who is now on her hands and knees and buried up to her shoulders in the tree, trying to fasten the trunk into the base. "Fine,  _fine_  character," she finishes teasingly.

You roll your eyes again, but really, you can't blame her for staring. Santana really does have a fine... _character._


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

"You're absolutely sure you don't need me? I could...do some heavy lifting?"

You shoulder harder at Holly's back, trying to overpower the grip she has on the front door frame, emphatically ignoring the suggestive tone in her voice.

"Holly, I love you, and I'm so excited for tonight, but so help me  _if you don't get out right now_ -"

"Britt-Britt? Can you help me out for a sec? This thing is just  _not_  sliding in way it should," you hear from the living room.

You take the opportunity presented when Holly releases the wooden frame to turn to face you, and shove her the rest of the way out of the apartment. She opens her mouth, and based on the sly expression she's wearing, you feel totally justified in slamming the door in her face.

As an afterthought, you shout, "go get Daddy!" through the door. A resounding thump and what was probably a muffled curse answer you back. Whatever. As long as she stops hitting on your girlfriend for a couple hours.

You walk back into the living room where Santana is putting the finishing touches on your Christmas tree. The two of you spent the last hour and a half hanging ornaments while Holly strung together a garland of popcorn and fake cranberries (that you  _know_  Santana is just dying to redo because no matter how many times you said it, your cousin does  _not_  respect the cranberry to popcorn ratio your girlfriend prefers).

While Santana heads back into her bedroom to change into her uniform, you start packing up the empty ornament boxes and carefully arranging them in the storage tub with the rest of the extra decorations, trying to fit them in as close to the way the were when you first opened the box. Once you've gotten everything neatly stored in the tub, you circle the tree one last time to check for any holes or overcrowded spots. You lean up on your tip-toes to adjust a crooked ornament near the top of the tree, and smirk as you recall the teasing you gave Santana when she had to strain to put it there in the first place.

The smirk drops off your face suddenly when two hand circle your waist quickly, unsnapping your fly with practiced ease. Before you can think to protest - not that you would - one hand is sliding down to tease over your underwear while the other ghost up under your thermal to cup and knead at your right breast.

"You," a voice rasps heatedly in your ear, "have been teasing me all damn day, and it's been driving me fucking  _wild._ "

You open your mouth to protest because okay, maybe you were a little more touchy-feely with Santana while decorating the tree, but only because Holly kept making her blush and it drove you up the wall because that's your favorite thing to do - but all that comes out is a shaky moan when the fingers at your underwear and the fingers at your bra each simultaneously find and pinch at the sensitive buds underneath.

"San _tan_ a-"

"God, that is such a sexy sound coming from you." She rubs hard between your legs, making you rut mindlessly against her hand. "You're wet already, babe. I can feel it through your underwear. Did you get all hot and bothered, rubbing all up on me in front of your cousin?"

Another low moan works its way up your throat as she grinds her crotch roughly into your ass. You can feel the badge over her left breast digging into your back. Apparently cocky Santana is here. And okay, yes. You're definitely getting all hot - that's for darn sure. But really, it's no bother. Like,  _at all_.

"Santana,  _plea-_ uhn!  _Please!_ "

Her hand on your breast keeps you facing the tree, while the other one makes completely certain that your underwear are ruined.

She nips at your earlobe, flicking her tongue inside as she whispers, "Please _what_ , Brittany?"

Alright, that's it. Spinning in place, you launch yourself into her arms, wrapping your trembling legs around her hips and locking your arms over her shoulders. You claim her her mouth in a fierce kiss that makes your teeth clack together and your lips feel like they're on fire.

Pulling back to meet her gaze, your stomach does cartwheels as you get lost in the black heat you find there. Pressing in tightly so that your foreheads, noses and lips are all touching, you whisper tauntingly into her mouth.

"If I made you so crazy, then  _do so_ mething about it.  _Take_ me _._ "

Her eyes go wide for a second, and you flush a little and how forward and  _dirty_  that sounded, but God...it's cocky Santana. It's not like you can be blamed for how that riles you.

She grins, showing all her teeth and it makes you shiver - you never noticed how sharp her teeth look, and  _why_  is that turning you on so much right now?

"Yes ma'am."

She carries you to her bedroom like that, and you can't help but stroke the bunched muscles straining under the rough fabric of her uniform. So sexy. You're so busy feeling up her arms and shoulders that you don't notice you've reached the bedroom until you're suddenly flying through the air.

You land on your back in the middle of the bed with a yelp of surprise, arms and legs spread out like a starfish. Before you can sit up though, strong hands are pressing your waist into the mattress. You find Santana's eyes and swallow and the fire and intent in them.

In a utterly calm, if somewhat husky voice, she speaks. "Now you're going to stay very still and not touch my uniform or my hair, and I'm going eat you out until you scream. Do I make myself clear?"

You almost come right there. Nodding, you fist your hands into her quilt and try not to pass out from sheer arousal. In one smooth motion, she slides your pants and underwear down your legs and tosses them carelessly behind her. Her hands snake slowly over your legs, past your thighs, around your hips, and back down. Before you can blink, she hooks her fingers under your knees and yanks, pulling your butt to the edge of the mattress and parting your thighs around her body at the same time.

"Much better. Now, remember Britt-Britt. Very still, and no touching. Wouldn't want to mess up my nice, neat uniform, right?" You nod again, biting your lip against a whimper. "You just keep your hands right where they are." She smirks knowingly when a tiny, high-pitched sound escapes from the back of your throat. You kind of have a thing about burying your fingers in her hair when she's down there, but when it's all slicked down and pulled into a tight bun, you know you wouldn't be able to get a good grip anyways. Your knuckles pop as you tighten your hold on the quilt beneath you. "Good girl."

At this rate, you're probably just going to explode into a million pieces before she even really gets going.

Her hands glide smoothly over your skin as she shifts her grip from the pits of your knees to the quivering muscles of your inner thighs. With a hard jerk, she spreads your legs so that your knees are almost level with your hips, leaving you wide open and exposed. Thank God you're so flexible, because  _hot_.

The tip of her nose draws a line up the length of your left thigh, and it feels like every single muscle underneath clenches in response. You hear her take a deep breath in through her nose when she reaches your center, and some of the ache there fades when you think about how wet you must be if she can smell it - it's a little embarrassing.

"God Britt, you smell like heaven. You're so beautiful like this."

Okay, so maybe it's not as embarrassing as all that if this is the reaction you're going to get. You lift your head to look down your body, and her fiery gaze burns right into you. You rarely ever see Santana this aggressive, which is kind of a bummer because it's  _so_  working for you. Obviously. The aching comes back in full force, making you literally throb with need.

Santana must notice the unconscious clenching, because she raises on perfect eyebrow at you smiles that slow, sly smile that curves her mouth up like the Grinch when he first thinks of his evil plot, and it ties your tummy into squirming knots. Thank heavens you're laying down because you're pretty sure your knees would have totally given up on you right then. Sometimes you think maybe they're as completely into Santana as you are - nothing else could explain the way they always seem so wobbly whenever she's close.

"You ready for me, B? You want me to  _take_  you?"

You groan at the sultry, teasing echo of your own earlier taunt and let your head drop back onto the mattress as your hips buck helplessly under her iron grip.

"Yes! God, Please honey, yes." You know what she wants to hear, and you'll give it to her gladly. "I'm all yours - do it now."

That's clearly what she was waiting for, because without any further warning, she dives right in. Her tongue lashes against your clit, working you into a frenzy, before it drops lower to press into your core. Your toes curl and your back arches off the bed as you welcome the silky intrusion.

"Fuck! Oh Go-"

She opens her mouth wide and sucks you in whole, all the while plunging her wicked tongue in and out, until you're a shaking, panting, sweaty mess.

"S-s-san- Uh! Santana! Please!"

Tears of frustration well in your eyes as you struggle to catch enough breath so you can tell her what you need, but it's completely unnecessary. Flicking her tongue relentlessly over your clit, she releases your right thigh to slam two fingers deep inside you, filling you completely. Not wasting any time, she pumps into you, the motion made easy by the impossible amount of wetness you're producing.

You think you hear her growl, "mine," but then a third finger joins the first two and they curl sharply inside - and that does it.

Your back bows so that your entire upper body is lifted off the mattress and a sobbing howl tears from your throat as stars fill your vision. The pleasure seems to last forever, locking your body in its grip with crushing force that steals the air from your lungs and the thoughts from your mind. When finally it ends, you sag back into sweat-soaked quilt with a shuddering breath, gasping and staring blindly at the ceiling above you as you try to gather yourself together again.

Suddenly Santana's worried face fills your vision. Her mouth opens, but her voice sounds muffled and far away, so you shake your head slowly to try and clear it.

"Britt-Britt? Baby? Are you okay? Brittany?"

It starts quietly - a tiny chuckle that tickles your chest - but grows and grows until eventually there are tears streaming down from the corners of your eyes to your temples and into your hair, and you can't breathe for laughing so hard.

Santana smiles, but her expression is still uncertain, and that's what helps you calm down. Sort of. Wiping weakly at your face, you beam at her and reach up to catch her jaw and pull her in for a light kiss.

" I am so much better than okay right now. Seriously. I think even the butterflies came that time."

She rolls her eyes and snorts gently before kissing you again, and then she disappears from your view. You consider sitting up to follow her for a minute, but decide against it. You don't think you could lift your head that far right now, never mind half your body.

You jerk violently and groan when you feel her tongue again, lapping at you gently, drawing hard aftershocks from the base of your belly. "Sa- uhnn! Santana s-stop. I ca-"

"Shhh, yes you can, just relax babe. It's okay. I'm just gonna clean you up."

Her touch stays light and soothing this time, pulling from you a gentle orgasm that makes your whole body feel like warm honey. You're still recovering when strong arms slip under your shoulders and butt, lifting and laying you at the top of her bed. You watch through eyes straining to stay open as she drapes a light blanket over your body. When she leans down to kiss your forehead, you catch her shoulder in a weak grip.

"Just give me a minute, honey. I'm still a little inside-out."

Her gentle eyes turn smug and she kisses your forehead again. "That's okay, Britt-Britt. I'm okay. You just rest for a minute while I go take the foil off the turkey."

"But-" Your eyes slip closed despite your best efforts.

"Shhh. I promise, I'm just fine. I'll come wake you in a little bit so you can shower and get ready."

It's something about Santana that both delights and frustrates you - how can she not be desperate for you to return the favor after all  _that?_  When you had first started dating, it made you a little insecure, like maybe she didn't want you the same way you wanted her. When you finally worked up the nerve to tell her, she practically fell over herself to reassure you. You smile slightly as you remember her words.

 _You make me so hot, B, all the time, but honestly? The sexiest thing I can think of is the way you let me take care of you, and watching you fall apart because of things_ I _do. You're_ so _gorgeous and I love the things you do to me, I really do, but sometimes just being with you is enough for me._

You don't remember doing it, but you must fall asleep because you start awake suddenly what seems like hours later. You blink and sit up, wondering what woke you when a sharp knocking echoes down the hall. Santana come barrelling in the room a second later, eyes wide.

"Brittany, it's Holly. I think she's back with your dad early. What do I do?"

You chomp your tongue so you don't laugh out loud at her panic. "Answer the door, honey. I'll just wash my hair real quick and be out in twenty minutes."

"But your-"

"Holly will do all the talking, I promise. It's gonna be fine." You stand up on slightly shaky legs and cross the room quickly to give her a hard, fast kiss that calms her a little. Taking her face in your hands you rub your nose against hers and whisper, "He's gonna love you. I promise. Everything's going to be perfect because  _you're_  perfect." You flatten your hands against the collar of her shirt, smoothing it needlessly (even after everything, she still looks military precise). You smack her backside as she turns to leave, and get a tiny smile in return.

The second she leave you sprint for her bathroom, ripping your shirt and bra off as you go - you never did manage to put your pants back on after-

No. You firmly push this afternoon from your mind. The last thing you need right now is to get yourself all worked up again, especially if Santana is going to be as nervous all night as you're sure she will be.

You finish your shower in record time and towel dry your hair, deciding that a simple up-do will have to do. You brush on light eye makeup and lipstick, then race back into the bedroom to dig your dress out of Santana's closet. It's the plain, deep blue velvet one that Santana insists make your eyes look like the whole universe is in them. You don't know exactly what that means, but it makes you melt on the inside every time. You just like it because it matches the color of her uniform. You wrap the silver ribbon hanging from the waist around your middle as you step into the new matching silver flats you bought just for today, knotting a bow in the back as you head out to the living room.

The first thing you see is Santana standing stiff and straight by the couch, nodding absently at something Holly is saying, but as you step into the room a flicker of movement over by the tree catches your eye.

"Daddy!"

You dad turns to see you, and a huge grin lights his face as he spreads his arms wide to pull you into a huge bearhug. "Honeybee! You look absolutely beautiful." Once he releases you, his hand drops to take yours, and you lift on your tip-toes to kiss his cheek.

"Let me introduce you," you whisper. "You're gonna love her Daddy, she's so wonderful."

He frowns playfully and whispers back, "For you? She darn well better be."

You tug him over to where Santana is still standing. Briefly, you wonder if they make police officers stand for inspection like you've seen in all those army movies she likes so much, because that's kinda how she looks right now. After a small squeeze, you drop your dad's hand to go latch on to her left arm, sliding one hand down to lace your fingers with hers. You can feel her relax a little as soon as you touch her, but she's still so stiff. She must be even more nervous than you realized.

"Daddy? This is my Santana. Santana, this is Richard Pierce."

She holds her hand out for him to shake, managing a tight, but genuine smile. "Merry Christmas, sir. It's such a pleasure to finally meet you. Brittany's told me so much about you."

Your dad stares at her for a few seconds with a completely blank face, and for the first time in your life, you can't read him at all. Your heart starts speeding up - Santana's nerves must be catching. After what seems like absolutely  _forever_ , he breaks into a wide smile and ignores her hand in favor of pulling her into a hug you're sure is every bit as tight as the one he gave you.

"Merry Christmas, Santana. I'm so happy to meet the woman who makes my Honeybee so happy."

When he lets her go, you have to bite your tongue again (you hope this doesn't become a habit because at this rate you're gonna chew through it and that would be really sad because kissing Santana with tongue is one of your favorite things). Her face is the perfect example of slack-jawed shock, and it's just about the cutest thing ever in the whole world.

"And for goodness' sakes, honey, don't call me sir. Richie will do just fine."

You grin like crazy at that. You knew he'd love her. You just  _knew_  it.

"Uh...Yes si- I mean, yes Richie. I mean, um...Can I get you something to drink? I think um, I think dinner's just about ready." She smooths her hand over her shirt and adjusts her belt. Like it's not already perfectly in place. She's so sweet and silly when she's nervous.

"A beer would be just great, if you've got any. Thanks kiddo."

Your cheeks are doing that achy thing again from too much smiling, but you don't even care. You give your dad another quick kiss on the cheek before following Santana into the kitchen.

"Santana."

"Okay, if you'll just put the sides out, I'll get your dad his beer and bring out the bird. Oh crap, I was gonna carve it first - unless you think your dad would rather? Isn't that like a thing someti-"

" _Santana._ " You grab her by the shoulders and spin her around to face you. Her eyes are a little wild, like she just saw a unicorn and doesn't know what to do next. You kiss her, hard like before, and suck on her bottom lip a little. Maybe you can suck some of the crazy out that way. You break the kiss with a pop, giggling at the dreamy look you left behind.

"Britt," she whispers, and you know you've done your job right.

"I told you, Santana. He totally loves you."

"Yeah?"

"Totally." You tilt your head as you look at her, wondering if you should just tell her. Might as well. "I can't remember him ever telling anyone I've introduced to him to call him by his first name. It's always been Mr. Pierce."

Her eyes go soft and her lashes flutter, the way they always do when she hopes for something she's sure she wouldn't get. "Really?"

"Really really."

"Oh. Well...okay then. That's...that's good."

"Very good. Now lets go have the best Christmas dinner ever."

She snorts and makes a silly face. "Great. No pressure, Britt."

You just shrug and smile back. You're not worried. As far as you're concerned, it already is.


End file.
